Category: Real Pants

Raphael. That’s all this guy’s name is.

“Uncanny likenesses of Cage,” one press release read, “that resemble Cage in ways that are hard to describe, but instantaneously felt across generations, cultures, creeds and faiths.”

The limbo of tottering between states of being, the paradox of longing and self-loathing, of meaning and language, of desire and disdain, of here and now and there and then: isn’t that the central work of poetry?

Do grade-school kids still have to write or speak about what they did during summer vacation? I’m not a kid, so I don’t get to take the summer off, but I did anyway. At least, I took a break from some things, and the roundup was one of them. I’m back now.

Two years ago this week, Freddie Gray died of spinal cord injuries after being in a coma resulting...